Harry Potter and the Necklace of Atlantea
by Realilly
Summary: Playing Quidditch with Hermione, a loose Bludger breaks Hermione's arm. She's in the Hospital Wing, angry at him. What can Ron do to make it up to her? An enchanted necklace sounds good...but things may become so crazy you'll hardly believe what happens!
1. The Accident

"Ron, stop bugging me. I have to finish my Transfiguration essay."

"Well excuse me, just because I finished mine."

"You did not! The only thing you can finish before me is food, and that hardly counts as educational."

"Yes it is, you see, you smart people can explain how your food goes in your mouth, and then out…at the bottom." Ron smirked, knowing that Hermione would blush at his crude explanation of digestion.

She didn't let him down.

They were in the Common Room, finishing the Transfiguration essay due tomorrow. Hermione only had a foot more to go, but Ron had barely started his. He was lazily munching on an apple, reclining in a chair with his feet up on a small table in front of him. Hermione was at a desk, slaving away.

"You know, if you were nice I would check over your 'finished' essay and make sure that it got an E. At this rate, however, you're due for a nice T-."

Ron sighed, knowing that that was a bargain. "All right, here it is."

Hermione gasped as he handed over the essay. "Ron!" she cried. "It's barely six inches long! You need to do SIX TIMES THAT!"

Ron waved a hand. "Come on, Mione. Let's go play or something. Doing all this homework is making you grumpy."

"And you lazy. Because you're not even doing any!"

"Come on. Let's do Quidditch!" Ron jumped up, excited at his new idea.

Hermione moaned. "Oh, Ron, you know how bad I am at Quidditch! I'll watch you."

"No," Ron insisted, "you have to play too!"

"I don't have a broom!"

"Madam Hooch has plenty extra!"

"I'll fall!" Hermione stood up, facing him squarely.

"And I'll catch you!" She was somewhat surprised at this bold answer. Was it only her, or was it a somewhat…ROMANTIC answer?

She sighed. "All right."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hermione, CATCH the ball!" Ron laughed as he tossed up a large red ball from a case full of Quidditch balls. Hermione touched it briefly with her fingertips, but it slipped out of reach. She was off balance up here high in the air, with only a thin stick to sit on and balance on. She understood the exhilaration of flying, but it simply wasn't for her. Feet firmly on the ground meant safety; this didn't. But then again, neither was love.

Wait. WHAT was that last thought? She wasn't in love. Hermione Granger? Love? No. Of course not, what was she thinking! Love, yeah right…love?

Ron let the Snitch loose the Snitch and soared up into the air, not realizing that his hand had brushed the clasp that retained the Bludger. "Okay, Mione, I'm going to beat you!"

"Ah!" She half laughed, half screamed as she slipped off to the side a bit. Steadying herself slowly, she made her way toward the Quaffle, which was in Ron's arms. "Give me that!"

"Not on your life!" Ron said, laughing. He felt more confident playing Quidditch with Hermione than he had ever felt before. He zoomed off towards the three rings, which Hermione was guarding.

"Just try and get past me!" Hermione cried, with much more bravado than she actually felt.

Ron dove down, then swooped up. Hermione didn't move, but her eyes followed his every motion.

Zipping past the goals, he threw the ball with all of his might. Hermione shot forward and, amazingly, actually managed to catch the Quaffle this time. Surprised at her sudden achievement, she flew towards the other goals all the way at the opposite end of the field.

Ron, shocked at his miss and her catch, raced to defend his goals, but Hermione was feeling better. He laughed. "I'm gonna getcha, Mione! You better run!"

Hermione, smiling, weakly tossed the ball through the hoops. "Yes!" she shouted, giggling slightly. For a second she threw her arms up in the air in triumph, then caught a glimpse of the ground and hurriedly restored them to their firm grip on the broom.

Ron grinned widely, his heart beating faster at the sight of her so happy. _This _was how things were supposed to be, but all the time. Stupid homework.

He pulled up beside her and gave her a quick friendly hug. Friendly. Hermione laughed shakily, brushed away a loose strand of hair and muttered, "Stop it, Ron! You'll make me fall…"

And then it happened.

The Bludger, which had been struggling to break out of the other clasp (the first one Ron had accidentally opened) all the while they had been playing, broke through the top of the wood chest and spun towards them, hurling at top speed.

Hermione gaped, then wheeled towards Ron. "Ron! Didn't you secure it!"

Ron wasn't listening to her. He maneuvered the broom so that he was in between Hermione and the quickly approaching Bludger. "Hermione, I need you to do whatever I tell you to do."

Hermione's anger abated quickly, her emotions now fearful.

The Bludger was almost at them…

Then Ron moved into action.

Turning to Hermione, he placed his hands firmly on her waist and lifted her up towards him. He placed her behind him, and said loudly, "Hold on to me TIGHT!" She obediently placed her hands on his waist, then screamed as…

He zoomed towards the ground, the Bludger hot on their heels. Hermione screamed as the ground rose to meet them, and then shut her eyes closed tight. Wind whipped around them.

Ron started to pull up. He cursed—he had dived too low. There was no way they could make it out of this alive…what did he want his last words to be? "HERMIONE, I LOVE YOU!"

Hermione didn't reply.

They were about twenty feet from the ground…ten…two…Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and hurled himself off of the broom.

Pain. Ground. Grass. Brown hair. A moan. Blue sky. A face—Hermione.

They came to a stop. Ron saw the broom still flying on—it had pulled itself up. "Stupid broom," he muttered. The Bludger was still chasing it, but any moment it would turn around and charge again.

"Ow…" moaned Hermione. Her head lay on his outstretched left arm, her hair fanning out.

He turned an anxious face to her. "What is it?"

"My arm…"

Ron sat up, then saw that she had landed on her arm at an odd angle. He swore, then pulled himself up, trying to think about what to do first.

"Hermione, stay there," he said quickly. "Let me take care of the Bludger and then I'll get you to Madam Pomfrey."

She moaned again in reply.

Ron whipped out his wand as he saw the Bludger halt for a moment and then turn around. It flew back at an alarming speed.

"Diffindo!" he cried, and suddenly the Bludger froze in its tracks. Cracking in two, it fell to the ground.

Ron watched it for a moment to ensure that the two halves wouldn't come alive, and then knelt beside Hermione. Her eyes were closed.

"Oh, Hermione." Ron was miserable. It was all his fault.

"Ron?"

"What is it?" he replied eagerly.

"You didn't catch me."

Tears of happiness and sadness sprang to his eyes, though Ron had no idea why.

"I'm sorry, Mione! I didn't mean to…things were going so nicely, too!"

But Hermione had succumbed to unconsciousness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione woke to an acute sense of pain in her right arm.

Faces. There were blurred faces, looking at her. Blobs, really. Not faces…

She blinked. "Hermione?" asked Ron timidly. "Are you, you know…okay?"

Suddenly she was angry. How DARE Ron drag her away from her studies, only to end up breaking her arm or something like it, because her arm sure hurt like heck! "Okay?" she said softly, in a dangerous voice. "Okay?"

Ron gulped.

"Yes, Ron, I'm just dainty, except for the fact that YOU practically broke all the BONES in my ARM! NO, RON, I THINK I'M OKAY! I'M ONLY IN THE HOSPITAL WING, INSTEAD OF IN THE COMMON ROOM STUDYING, AND ALL BECAUSE OF YOU! HAVE I ANSWERED YOUR QUESTION YET? BECAUSE IF I HAVEN'T, I GUESS I'LL JUST MAKE IT CLEAR THAT NOO, I'M NOT OKAY!" Hermione shrieked.

Ron looked away, hating every particle in his body.

Harry, next to Ron, motioned to Ron to leave now. Ron nodded, glanced at Hermione, who stared back icily, and left.

Hermione, her anger slowly dissipating, gulped for air after her outburst.

Harry stared at her. "You shouldn't have done that, you know."

She looked away. "I know. But—"

"No. No buts."

She sighed, looking down.

"You're supposed to drink this now. Madame Pomfrey's orders." Harry handed her a glass of slightly orange liquid and a straw. "I think it's Gro-something, this stuff that grows your bones back. I had to take it before, when that Bludger hit my arm." He smiled a bit at how similar their injuries were, and at the memory of Dobby.

Hermione swirled the mixture around slowly with her straw, watching it move so freely. "I just…get so mad at him sometimes. I don't mean to…for the most part. But my anger just springs right up, and I can't stop it. I really do like him…I don't mean to be so…well, mean." She sighed. "And the worst part is that I was really having fun with him. We don't really get to be so close…" Here she blushed, "and have so much fun, but I thought that for once he was right, and I really had needed to just get out and play around for a little bit."

"It wasn't really Ron who broke your arm, though."

"No, but it was his fault. He told you all this, didn't he?"

"Yes. Keep going, I'm listening."

"Well, that's really all there is. I just thought that 'Wow, he's really sensitive.' He knew that I just needed some fresh air and some free time." She quietly drank her potion, grimacing slightly at the horrible flavor.

"You would have had some at Hogsmeade today, though."

Hermione stared blankly at him for a few seconds, then slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I completely forgot! Great, now I get to miss that…"

"He did too, Hermione. And just because you got hurt ACCIDENTALLY doesn't mean that Ron was wrong about you. He just made a mistake. Would you rather have on a cast or a casket?' Harry laughed softly at his joke. She joined him.

"All right, so maybe you're correct. But I'm still kind of disappointed in him."

"Didn't you guys have fun?"

"I guess so…"

Harry frowned.

"All right, yes…"

"Well then, there you go."

"Hey, Harry…" Hermione called, as he turned away to leave.

"Yeah?"

"Did Ron tell you what he yelled just before he broke my arm?" She smiled.

"No…"

"Oh…I didn't think he would have…never mind, it's nothing." Harry, a confused look on his face, turned to leave.

"See ya, Hermione. I'll get you some Butterbeer, okay?"

She smiled. Harry was a pretty good friend. Awesome, once she thought about it.


	2. The Necklace Introduced

**(A/N: Thank you to Joan Marie Mesi for reviewing the first chapter and everyone else! Here's the second…please tell me what you think!)**

Ron scanned the shelves of Honeydukes miserably. "She hates me."

"No, she doesn't. She's just a little—"

"She HATES me. I know she does."

"Ron, you're wrong. Hermione's only—"

"I'm not asking for your opinion, Harry. She hates me, that's all."

"No, it's not all. You're taking this way too far. I talked to her, all right? She does NOT hate you!"

"The girl I love hates me. Get over it, Harry."

"I'm not the one who needs to get over it! It's your problem! You're the one who's making it into such a big deal! Like you said, you're the one who loves her! I'm only trying to help!"

Ron continued to avoid his best friend's gaze. He didn't get angry, he just kept on moping. "Great. Now you're mad at me too."

Harry moaned. "Ron. Snap out of it. I'm your friend, remember? Ron. Look at me."

Ron dolefully turned his head from the appealing Liverwurst Snaps and Lime-flavored Licorice Sticks. "I know, I know. It's just…what am I supposed to do to make it up?"

Harry thought for a second. In that second, a large lady with a huge amethyst brooch bumped into Harry, sending him flying.

"Oh, so sorry, m'dear, didn't see you there!" The lady apologized quickly then continued on her way, through the huge, bustling, noisy crowd.

Harry said nothing, struck with inspiration.

"Ron!" he hissed to the still melancholy boy, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the candy store.

"What is it? Let go of me! What?"

Once they were outside in the cold, crisp winter air Harry stopped and turned to him. "Ron, it's perfect! Get her some jewelry! Like…I dunno…earrings or something!"

"I don't think that Hermione has pierced ears…" Ron said doubtfully. Harry, dubious at his friend's insecurity at his brilliant idea, gaped.

"Well then get her a ring, or a necklace, or a bracelet! Take your pick of the lot, but don't you think that it's a good plan?"

Ron thought. "I dunno. As far as plans go, it's horrible. Good plans are always so…complicated. Hard." Harry's face revealed great anger and wrath, so Ron quickly added on, "But as far as idea's go, I'd say that it's got potential. It's better than Pickled Eyeballs any day."

"Ron," Harry said, "Hermione wasn't far from the truth when she said you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon. I'd give you a tablespoon, but even that's pushing it. And how would you know about getting Pickled Eyeballs for a present?"

Ron grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know."

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Three hours later, it was five minutes until time to leave. Ron and Harry were exhausted, having walked up and down Hogsmeade Lane at least fifty…fifty-two times. They were pooped, tired, sweaty, weary, drained, worn-out, fatigued, and mostly deadbeat.

"Ron?" Harry said, as they walked back towards the castle.

"What?"

"You know how you think Hermione hates you?"

"No, I don't think it, I KNOW that she—"

"Yeah, yeah, anyway, my POINT is that I hate you a million times more."

"Jewelry was your idea, not mine. I'd have settled for a Sugar Quill or two from the beginning, but NO, let's get Hermione a bracelet!"

"I was only trying to help you, Mr. Oh-no-what-will-I-do-my-life-is-over-because-she-hates-me-so-I-should-just-commit-suicide-or-something-like-that-instead-of-being-smart Weasley!"

"Oh, so just blame ME now, will you? I see how it is! I see!" Ron said fiercely, prepared to fight. Harry didn't have the strength, but he could pretend he did.

"Well I see too!"

"So do I! I see how this is going to end! It's going to end with you on the ground and me laughing! I see! I see…a jewelry store?" Ron said.

"Where?" Harry asked, alert.

"Look! Next to Locks-U-Love."

"I don't remember seeing that the other fifty-two times we walked past here!"

Ron stared at him. "You counted?"

"Well, kind of…anyway, why didn't we see it before?"

"We can ask when we get inside, all right? Come on, hurry. I want to get Hermione's present right now, okay?"

"You do like my plan, don't you."

"You're idea, yes, but only because I don't know anything better."

"Typical."

The jewelry store was an antique jewelry store, obviously. It kind of reminded Ron of Borgin and Burkes, because it was old and dusty and had a somewhat sad aura around it. It was small, a hole-in-the-wall place. But Ron liked it because he knew that Hermione would like it.

_Beautiful._ Its name was _Beautiful._ Ron knew automatically that he had to bring Hermione here one day, and that this was the place he would find what he was looking for.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Dang it, Ron, we need to go back. It's too late to go inside, we have Potions! You don't want detention, do you?"

"No, but…" Ron gazed longingly at the store that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Ron, it'll be there tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And maybe even the day after that, if you're lucky," Harry muttered sarcastically. He started off at a brisk walk.

Ron stood there, staring at the wooden sign with the name hand-written on it in a fancy, loopy, elegant cursive.

_Beautiful…_

_Hermione is beautiful…_

"Harry!" Ron called desperately.

He turned around. "What?"

"Let me borrow your Invisibility Cloak."

Harry shook his head. "What?"

"So I can get her something! Please. I need to do this! It's in there, I just know it!" Ron pleaded.

Harry studied him. "Fine. But first you have to admit that I'm a genius."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever, you're a genius." But he was smiling.

So was Harry—"Thank you." Turning to Hogwarts, he murmured, "Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

Silence.

Nothing.

More silence.

More nothing.

Even more silence.

And then…

Nope. Still nothing.

"Harry, say it again!"

"Accio Invisi—" Suddenly the breath was knocked out of him and Harry felt like he had been punched.

"What is it?" called Ron, running over to his friend.

Harry stood up, brushing off the dirt. "This," he said, and shoved something into Ron's arm.

The Invisibility Cloak. Being invisible.

"Thanks!" Ron said.

"No problem." Harry took off at a run. "Thanks to you, I'm going to be late for class!" He yelled back.

"Have fun with Snapey!" Ron retorted, already throwing the Cloak on over his shoulders. It was warm and velvety soft. Gathering up his courage, he stepped inside.

_Hermione,_ he thought as his eyes were amazed. The store was small, but it held so much magic…wand-made and REAL magic. Was this what Hermione experienced whenever she opened a book? Ron suspected so.

A tinkling music was coming from a music box somewhere **(A/N: Imagine the Harry Potter theme)** , but there were wooden cabinets everywhere, necklaces and diamonds and jewels and bracelets and earrings and beautiful shining things that were old, they looked old, but looked unique and…_Beautiful._

"Um…hello?" Ron called out weakly, walking around cabinets toward the back. "Is…anyone there?"

"Who's there?" came a gruff voice. An elderly man, from the sound of it.

"Um…just me…"

"Who's me?" Walking. There was a sound of shoes clacking against the wood floor.

And then a face suddenly appeared from behind a cabinet. "Hello? Who's there?"

Ron started. What was wrong with this man? Couldn't he see? Ron was right in front of him…oh. Wearing the Invisibility Cloak.

He threw it off. Now it was the man's turn to start.

"Who the devil 're ya?" he snarled. "And what be ye doing in my store, frightening the living daylights outta my customers?"

Ron stuttered profoundly, scared to death. "I-I ju-just wan-n-nted to uh…uh…"

The man looked away in annoyance, then turned back to Ron. "Speak now or forever hold yer peace!"

"Excuse m-me, but there are no other customers in y-your shop."

The man frowned in confusion, then blinked rapidly a few times.

Ron waited.

He spoke again finally, with a more sorrowful tone in his voice. "Oh…excuse me. I get these flashbacks to the olden days…the golden days…you see," he explained, "my store used to be filled with customers. And it wasn't an antique store, you better believe it! But then there was a huge…I'm not sure…market crash, stock crash, something of the like. And I was almost left penniless. All I have is this store…but she is beautiful, isn't she?"

Ron nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes she is…"

The man shook his head. "Anyway, to business. I am Silverstone, Jay Silverstone. What is it exactly that you are looking for?"

Ron cast his gaze towards his feet. "Um…a girl…I mean, no, I'm not looking FOR a girl, but looking for something FOR a girl. I mean…no…no, yeah…" He gave up.

Silverstone smiled, his face wrinkling. Nice, Ron decided, if loony. Definitely loony. But definitely nice, still.

"Ah…for a girl," he replied. "Tell me, is she beautiful?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe not to others, but she is to me."

"Is she smart?"

Here Ron grinned. "Definitely."

"Is she confident?"

"Most of the time…"

"Sensitive?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yup."

"Is she mad at you right now?"

Ron snapped back to reality. "Whoa…what?"

He laughed. "Mad at you right now."

"Mad's an understatement. She hates me." Ron whispered, tears coming to his eyes. Stop it, he commanded himself, stop crying. You sissy, you pathetic wimp.

The man pondered for a second, then said simply, "Come with me."

Ron followed Silverstone as he weaved between cabinets and shelves and jewelry, beautiful items.

They reached a desk. Silverstone slid behind it, but Ron remained on the other side.

"Do you love her?" he asked finally, after a long pause. He wasn't looking at Ron, though—he was rummaging through a drawer for something.

"Um…I…well…" Ron wasn't sure if he wanted to exactly tell this man his every thought about Hermione, even though Ron did like the magic this store possessed.

Then Silverstone produced a necklace.

A _beautiful_ necklace.

A necklace that would show Hermione how he felt, how much he loved her, and how simple and yet complicated love could be at the same time. Ron drew in his breath. It was perfect.

A white, perfect shell with natural lines etched in it for eternity was in the shape of a heart. Ron knew—he just KNEW—that no one had carved it that way. It was perfectly smooth and perfectly white and perfectly perfect. It was attached to a black, wide satin ribbon that closed with a gold clasp.

Ron had to give that necklace to Hermione almost as much as he had to kiss her at one point in his lifetime. He gazed from it to the old man, who was holding it in his hands as if he was holding his dearest love. "How much is it?" Ron whispered.

"It's only for sale with love," Silverstone replied softly.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron, who was now worried that he wouldn't be able to give it to Hermione.

"Do you love her?" he asked firmly.

Ron could summon the image of Hermione to his mind effortlessly, and he did so now. Yes, he did love her. He loved the way she got annoyed at him whenever he was cocky and overconfident, he loved the way she would sometimes tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear without even realizing it, he loved the way she carried her books and refused to ever bend over, the way she had to stand tall or else not at all. He loved _her…_Head spinning, dizzy with the strong emotions, he murmured, "Yes. Yes, I love her."

"Good." Silverstone nodded. "I can see that you really do." He smiled weakly, then held out the necklace. "Here."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Wait—what? Are you…giving it to me? How much is it?"

"Free."

Ron's jaw dropped even lower, though it seems impossible. "Look, I have…money…somewhere…galleons…come on, how much is it? Really?" He was digging deep in his pockets.

"I once loved a woman," Silverstone began. "She was beautiful, smart, funny, amazing. I was new to the small town that she lived in, and it was so long ago that the ladies flocked to me." He paused and winked at Ron. "I thought she loved me, and I knew that I loved her. So I found this necklace one day in an antique store. I loved it and knew that she would too. Strangely, the store owner, who was a very old man, said that it was a charmed and a cursed necklace. He saw that I loved her and gave it to me for free, and so I presented it to her. She loved it.

"But a year or so passed, with marriage on my mind, and then came the day when another man came to the town. He was rich, handsome, young, and had so much more than I had to offer her than I did. My love wasn't enough the moment she saw him. She ran off without a second thought, and the necklace she had faithfully, dutifully worn every day was left behind in my room, with a note underneath it.

_"Dear Jay,_ it read,

_I know that you love me and so you will understand that when I leave you behind I do so with no intention whatsoever of hurting you. Please know that you cannot provide me with what I need—love._

"There was no point for me to read the rest—the letter clearly revealed her true person, and just how shallow she was. I took it back, waiting for true love.

So I warn you—because I have never had a true love, I am not sure what this necklace will do. It could take you to a whole other dimension, or perhaps twist her thoughts for you. I don't know. But it might also bring you true love, passion, or great friendship."

He placed it in Ron's hand. Ron studied the shell with great interest. Nah, he didn't believe that it was really cursed. Different dimensions? Passion? Yeah, right. Like he had thought before, the guy was nice but a complete nutcase.

"Thanks…I'll just be going now."

Silverstone nodded. "May good fortune and love find you, wherever you may go."

Ron nodded, a bit less than enthusiastically.

The old man leaned in. "And remember…you love her."

This advice Ron found redundant, but he acted polite and thanked Silverstone anyway.

Once outside of _Beautiful_, Ron threw on the Invisibility Cloak. "Hermione, here I come…" Taking a wary glance at the innocent necklace, he began trudging back to his dear love.


	3. The CoverUp

**(A/N: Hello people! I kinda completely shifted the plot. Well…not completely. But a lot. Just to warn you, this story may not make too much sense. But hey…since when are my stories actually not confusing:D Thanks to all of my dedicated (cough) reviewers:D) **

"No, you cannot go in! She needs her rest, because now she has a cold!"

"Don't you have a simple potion for that? Anti-cold or something?"

"Yes I do, but it involves three hours of sleep! She only has one right now!"

"But it's really urgent!"

"I'm sorry, you can come back in a couple hours!"

"But—"

"No! Away with you, now! Go! Shoo!"

Ron was rejected from the Hospital Wing.

Harry, just out of Potions, came up to him with a bundle of books in tow. "Never—again," he grunted. Ron grinned.

"How was Potions?"

Harry glared at him. "I am never, EVER going to cover for you again. I even gave Snape a decent excuse—that you were having a chat with McGonagall about your low grades." Harry smirked.

Ron was confused. "What are you talking about? I'm getting an A in Transfiguration!"

"Snape doesn't know that. Anyway, he flared up, yelling about how your current class was your most important class, blah blah blah blah blah. Just then, however…." Harry grimaced. "McGonagall came in, asking if she could borrow a yardstick. Her wand was broken, and all it was making for her was lemon meringue pies."

Ron's jaw dropped. He mouthed words, but was so shocked that he was unable to vocalize.

"That's where things got bad. Snape thought that she needed a yardstick for disciplining you, and so he said, 'Gladly, Minerva. So you're finally taking up discipline? How many whacks will he be receiving?'"

Ron, still speechless, started to twitch.

"McGonagall said, 'What on Earth are you talking about, Severus? This is going to Flitwick. He's lost his wand again. And who is this 'he'?"

Ron choked, then finally spoke. "I'm dead meat…I'm dead…I'm dead…I'm dead…"

"Hang on, I'm not done yet."

"I'm done…I'm done…I'm done…I'm done…"

"Will you stop it? I'm not finished!"

"I'm finished…I'm finished…I'm finished…I'm finished…"

Harry, taking hold of the situation as he usually did, turned to Ron and smartly slapped him across the face.

"Thanks, mate…ow, that's going to bruise…"

"As I was SAYING, Snape turned to me with a venomous glare. 'Why don't you ask Mr. Potter?'"

"I said that I had heard you saying to Hermione that you were going to be talking to McGonagall. Snape interrupted me, asking, 'About his low grade, I believe?'

"McGonagall was surprised. 'Ron's doing fine in Transfiguration!' Snape said, 'Not according to Mr. Potter, here.' I said that I thought that you had said you were failing. McGonagall pointed her wand at me and said, 'Mr. Potter, I think that you had better come with me to my office. You have a bit of explaining to do, it seems.'

"But of course Snape said no, I was in his class right now. Then McGonagall said no, I was in her house. But when she said that, she accidentally flicked her wand at him."

Harry paused, waiting for Ron to catch on to the next bit of the story.

"What is it?" Ron asked. "Keep going, I'm listening."

Harry sighed, continuing. "A lemon meringue pie suddenly flew at Snape's face. McGonagall apologized, but then Fred and George, who were in the back, taking notes because they were behind in their class, started making pies appear and were starting a humongous food fight."

Ron gulped. If a story involved Fred and George, it involved a big punishment. "And so…?"

"I found you, and now I'm to bring you to McGonagall's office. She's going to 'have a chat' with us. Although we're also supposed to do detention for two weeks with Snape."

"You basically sold me out!"

"What are you talking about, I totally covered you!"

"Talking to McGonagall, please! I'm not a bit surprised that she found Snape. Harry, you're not supposed to use excuses that can backfire at you! Honestly! Now, if you had said that I was battling the Whomping Willow for…my life, then that would have made sense."

"What?! No it wouldn't have! We could have looked out the window and have checked to see if you really were!"

"But if you didn't see me, then you'd figure I was done fighting it and had run away, alive."

"That's a stupider excuse than mine was!"

"So you admit it! Your cover-up WAS stupid!"

"But better than yours!"

"Only by a bit, and my idea came off the top of my head!"

"Your point?"

"THINK OF A BETTER EXCUSE NEXT TIME!"

"Oh yeah? Well, next time I won't cover for you at ALL!"

"Weasley! Potter! Stop yelling in the hall and get in here right now, you two!" McGonagall instructed them from the door of her office. The two friends had barely noticed that they were at their destination.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and followed McGonagall. Arguments never lasted long with them.

She sat down behind her desk. They plopped down in two chairs across from her.

"Now. What is all of this about?"

They started at the same time.

"Ron was—"

"Harry was—"

McGonagall sighed, removed her glasses, and began to clean them with a handkerchief. "Harry, you first. What were you doing, lying to Snape?'

"I was…covering up for someone."

Ron glared at him.

"By someone, you mean Mr. Weasley. All right, Ronald, where were you?"

"Skipping class…"

"Obviously. I asked for your location."

"I was at…a store…"

"Where is that store?"

"Hogsmeade…"

"And what store is this?"

Ron shook his head defiantly.

"You're not going to tell me?"

Ron shook his head again.

"You can speak, you know."

"No. I'm not going to tell you."

"Potter?"

"No."

"Ronald, why were you at this store?"

"I was buying someone something."

"I'm guessing that someone means Hermione. Am I correct?"

Ron looked away, out the window, and nodded.

McGonagall's sharp features softened slightly. "May I ask why?"

"She hates me."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Ron looked back at McGonagall. "Well…she's angry at me. For breaking her arm."

"It wasn't really you who broke her arm—" Harry started, but was cut off by McGonagall.

"How did she break her arm?"

"I pulled her off of the broom."

"In the air?!" McGonagall cried.

"Only two feet off of the ground. A Bludger was chasing us. I hadn't meant to let it out, but I accidentally undid one of the clasps and it broke free. I went into a dive, dove too low, tried to pull up, didn't want to die, and jumped off of the broom a couple feet above the ground, dragging Hermione with me."

"Hermione was on the same broom?"

"Yeah, I put her behind me. She's even worse than I am at Quidditch and flying."

"When the Bludger started to chase you?"

"Yeah…"

McGonagall finished cleaning her glasses. "I see. So you were buying her a…consolation gift?"

"I guess."

"What did you buy her?" McGonagall asked.

Ron pulled the necklace out of his pocket. He handed it over to her.

The professor gasped. "This necklace…did you get it from Silverstone?" Her eyes bored into his, demanding an answer.

Ron shrugged. "Yeah."

McGonagall was studying it closely, examining it from all angles.

Ron was struck by a thought. "Have you…seen it before?"

She shook her head quickly, almost too quickly. "No…no, I've only heard of it. It is supposed to have mysterious power. Odd power. It's quite famous, but for…the wrong reasons. There are many enigmatic stories somehow involving it, but it always gets lost somehow. Then it will turn up again."

"Oh." Ron wasn't really interested. Harry was soaking up all of the information, though.

"It's called the Necklace of Atlantea," explained McGonagall.

"Wouldn't it be the Necklace of Atlantis?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "No. Atlantea is clearly written down, but it's like playing that Muggle game…Telephone, I believe? Somehow the Muggles misinterpreted the name of the 'Lost City', but they're intrigued and fascinated by the story behind it all the same. If they knew the true name, they would probably have rediscovered it by now."

"What kind of stories are this necklace involved in? What's happened?" Ron yawned. Obviously McGonagall wasn't going to punish them, so why was Harry prolonging their visit to her office?

"People have…disappeared before. But of course, it's simply rumors." McGonagall sat up straight, her normal self again. She handed the necklace back to Ron. "I'll let you off the hook this time, you two, but don't expect this to happen again."

Ron nodded eagerly, reclaiming the necklace. Harry rose thoughtfully, pondering what he had just heard.

What if something happened to them?

Or…

What if Hermione disappeared?

Ron would never forgive himself if that occurred.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ron was in the Common Room. Only five more minutes to go until he would run down to the Hospital Wing and present Hermione with the "Necklace of Atlantea". He snorted. What bloody nonsense. Enchanted necklace? Mysterious rumors? Disappearing people? Yeah, right. That was all hogwash.

Lavender came up to him. "Hey..." she said slyly.

Ron looked at his ex-girlfriend. "What is it, Lavender?"

"Well, Won-Won, I was just thinking…" She giggled. "I miss you…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm right here."

She giggled again. "No, silly, not like that. Like…boyfriend and girlfriend, miss you…"

"NO."

Lavender looked surprised at his loud refusal. "What?"

He stood up from his seat. "I SAID, NO!"

"Gosh, why are you getting so angry?" she replied.

"Just STOP bugging me!"

"Fine, geez! I can almost understand why Hermione hates you…" Lavender said, walking away.

Ron exploded. "SHUT UP!" he roared. Lavender whirled around, frightened. Looking him up and down quickly, she hurried up to the girls' dormitories.

Ron fell back in his chair, feeling drained and exhausted. Harry came out of the boys' dormitories. "What is it?" he asked. "I heard you shouting from up there!"

Ron closed his eyes for a brief second, then asked quietly, "She doesn't really hate me…does she?"

"No. Just stop it, okay? I talked to her before, and I'll say it again—she does NOT hate you. That necklace, Ron, should more than compensate for a little broken arm. She's just a little annoyed, but keep in mind that she's a girl. She'll love your gift of the 'Necklace of Atlantea', or whatever it is."

Ron opened one eye. "You think so?"

Harry grinned. "I KNOW so."

"Well then...what am I waiting for?" Ron jumped up, smiling once again.

"I have no idea," Harry replied. "Voldemort to change his evil ways? You might be waiting a while, if so."

"Nope," Ron said, already heading for the portrait door. "I'm waiting for love."


End file.
